You Don't Know What You Are
by Abby Ebon
Summary: Prompt s from i lovejs at comment fic; Prompt: X-Men, Pyro/Iceman, elemental gods being re-born as humans. & Prompt: X-Men, Pyro/Iceman, Thor's warning


**Don't You Know What You Are**

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"You don't know what you are, do you?" The words kept repeating, over and over, in Bobby's dreams. Asleep or waking, he could not rid himself of the question once it had been asked. He hated these dreams, if they were dreams, because they were uncomfortable and cold. They felt like nightmares, and Bobby was always on edge – as if he was about to be attacked, yet nothing ever happened. That was perhaps most maddening of all.

At least he could still wake up when he wanted to. Bobby was grateful for that much control, because the moment that question was asked, he always wanted to wake up – and did so with a shuddering breath.

It was always as if he couldn't get enough air, or eerier, had forgotten how to breath.

In fact, if Bobby thought back on it, this had all started with those achingly haunting dreams. John had found him in the kitchen, trying to get drunk for the first time since finding out he really was different from everyone else, so evolutionally special he was little better then a freak of nature's whim, a human mutant. If only, he would wish later, that was all he was. It was a bit ironic, John was the first to admit, that they were such opposites that they gravitated toward each other with such inevitably. While Bobby hated a little bit what he had become, John reveled in it.

"You really are Jackie Frost, you know that?" John nodded toward the window that Bobby had been leaning against; even as he glanced behind himself Bobby had a feeling what he would find. Frail ice had painted snow flake patterns over the window. Bobby shuddered a little bit, because he hadn't meant to.

"Sorry." Bobby mumbled, looking away before he could see John puff on his cigarette to make it burn, the flare of an ember would have told him that John hadn't wanted him to apologies.

"It's alright; you can't help being what you are. What's your name?" John smiled at him, and took a drag from his cig at the same time. He didn't cough, and he's eyes didn't look wet like some unhealthy smokers do, his eyes were as black as a dead ember, but there was a sureness there of being burnt. Bobby couldn't help but wonder if John was as immune to fire and smoke, as Bobby was to ice and cold.

"Bobby Drake." Mumbled and shy, Bobby didn't know anyone in his first week, not really wanting to know anyone, incase this was only a dream. In the logic of dreams, he might wake up –normal - if he didn't know their names, it was a wonder John had heard his name, let alone understood the words.

"John Allerdyce." With a smile and snake like charm, Bobby was drawn in.

"You don't know what you are, do you?" The words were mocking, but the very same he's been hearing in his dream, yet Bobby was aware he was very much awake, and John could hear this voice too. A lighter burned with a flame that Bobby hadn't seen lit.

"Who are you?" John demanded of the voice coming from the empty air, for he was quick to get angry if he didn't know all the facts, but at this first glimpse of the fury of flame, Bobby at least knew it was not directed at him. One minute the man had not been there, standing in the room with them, between them, and then he was. His hair and beard was long and battle blood-spilled red, he was broad of shoulder and stood tall with a warriors build. He was like nothing Bobby had ever seen before. A savage that had tamed himself for the good of the world stood before them, and looked at them as if they were the ones who were dangerous and ought to be dead.

"It isn't who I am that ought to concern the likes of you, Muspell." Bobby thinks for a moment that this, this – well, Bobby has a fair idea of who he might be face to face with but saying it will just make it real and judging from the look he's getting from the red haired savage, it would be a bad idea to make this any more real then what it is. That look could kill him, would kill him and John both, were it not for the hesitation in those eyes.

Maybe, those eyes say, they can be reasoned with.

"What did you call me?" It's a whisper of protest, of denial, as John hisses the words out, not in pain, but as pissed off as snake surprised. John's arm is burning; he doesn't look the least bit worried about it – as if it happens every day. For all Bobby knows of John, it just might - but Bobby just noticed that the entire kitchen has a shining layer of ice, and he knows John didn't do that.

"Muspell, a fiery world-realm fed by the roots of Yggdrasil, that is what you are in spirit, John Allerdyce." It's taunting, those smug words, but there is wariness in the savage's eyes that John pays heed to. He isn't, after all, an utter fool. Bobby is rather grateful for that. It fits, some part of Bobby is agreeing, even his last name – Drake – its part of what he's being told.

"Sounds like hell." Bobby mutters, and John lifts his lip in a half hearted grin, none the less appreciating the joke.

"Niflheim knows well that its misty breath seeps into Hel's realm, leaving none of the dead untouched by the chill." With his head tilted to the side, Bobby knows he looks curious but untouched.

"What do you want with us?" Bobby murmurs, and even as he can feel the reassuring heat of John's flames, his breath fogs as if it's in the middle of winter. It might be nothing but his imagining it, but the flame haired and bearded not-human shivers, not liking the cold where he would have thought nothing of hurting John for all his fire. Bobby takes a step forward, because John will burn everything down and still not touch this immortal red haired giant.

"A warning, Niflheim, nothing more, you both must stay side-by-side, for if you become enemies, Frigga has spoken to say that this world-realm will be no more." John's black eyes meet Bobby's blue but when they look back to where their visitor had stood, he is no longer there.


End file.
